A Legacy Soiled
by run with all of the scissors
Summary: This is my first Warhammer 40k story, based in Descent of Angels...


Zahariel wiped away his tears with his handkerchief, it was approximately thirty minutes since they left that awful religious planet, and left Nemiel behind. Already he had severe separation anxiety from his cousin.

"Oh, how my heart aches for the loss of my young love," Zahariel lamented to himself, "Let thine beautiful drops of youthful innocence, bless his ending and our sorrow."

The Lion looked up from his book, "While we all love and lost," He lightly set the book down, "Stop being such a loser. You're the protagonist. Can you please refrain from devolving to a Shakespearian tragedy because your cousin moved on?"

Zahariel snapped to face The Lion, "Can you refrain from being a dick? I just lost my cousin! Never again will we have competitions to see who is the superior male. Never again will I give him my speciality massages after we finish training; his body, dripping in sweat, as he whimpers out my name and pleas for more-"

El'Johnson quickly stood up, and raised his hand to silence the fifteen year old boy, "Those are things you don't tell your higher ups."

"Then don't accuse me of being a Shakespearean tragedy, sir." Zahariel crossed his arms, tears welling in emotional waves.

"You're right. I must apologize. Your life is a Shakespearean comedy." The Lion winked, stuck out his tongue, and pointed at Zahariel.

Zahariel was not amused, not even when a Seinfeld laugh track played over the intercoms.

In fact, it made his crippling depression worse. Zahariel began to weep into his hands.

"Oh Emperor, I did donely did it this time," The Lion pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation as Zahariel began to obnoxiously sob.

El'Johnson awkwardly inched over to the crying, overly mature and muscular teenager. "There, there," he said, patting Zahariel's head, "I'm sure your," He paused, "Cousin... is just fine."

Zahariel sniveled and look at the Lion, "You really mean it? How can you be sure? I looked to say goodbye before we left," he sniffed, "but I couldn't find him."

"I don't actually know, I just said that to make you feel better. Maybe we could send someone to look for him?" The Lion shrugged.

"That someone...should be me!" Zahariel threw his handkerchief to the floor, and he  
made a mad dash to one of the escape pods. (They're on a spaceship, right?)

The Lion sprinted after him, and used his body to block the door from shutting, "Zahariel, you need to calm down. Here, try some brownies I made."

El'Johnson reached into his pocket, when Zahariel screeched, "NO THANKS," and he gripped the Lion's arm and pulled him into the pod. Zahariel slammed the door shut and pressed the eject button.

"Zahariel, the emperor's gonna be pissed when he finds out we decided to go on a side quest." The Lion stared out the window, that allowed him to look at the mothership they were leaving.

"I'm sure the Emperor will find in his wrinkly immortal heart some form of compassion," Zahariel took a deep breath, "This is a very noble cause."

The Lion rolled his eyes, and allowed Zahariel to pilot the pod. Zahariel had recently received his learner's permit, and still had much to practice in driving space ships.

"Okay, when you go for this landing, slowly pull on the breaks, and tap the thrusters when you get close to the ground." The Lion instructed, assuming Zahariel had never piloted an escape pod.

Zahariel reached for the break, but his super muscular and ripped body, caused him to accidentally rip the hand break out from the ship, "U-uh, brother..? We seem to have an issue." He innocently held up the break.

"It's okay, my boy, it happens to all of us." The Lion patted his back, taking in the air, and accepting their soon annihilation, "Now's not the time to panic."

Soon their ship drew closer to the planet, and increased it's speed for a large and imminent collision.

"Now may I panic, Sir?" Zahariel calmly asked.

The Lion blinked, "Yes."

Zahariel screeched in response, and he began pacing the cabin as The Lion took the wheel.

"There's bound to be another way, The Lion is right, I am the protagonist, not a loser. Though I ultimately lack character depth like other protagonist losers!" Zahariel spoke to himself, and the pod entered the atmosphere, and began plummeting to the planet in a hot fireball.

" Hot, hot, hot , hot!" He exclaimed, and began opening various compartments, looking for things he might need. Blankets? No. Medical supplies? Maybe after the crash. Eureka! A parachute. Why this had been packed, Zahariel had no idea, nor cared for the matter.

The Lion simply put on some shades, as he was unaffected by the flames.

Zahariel pulled El'Johnson away from the wheel, "We're blowing this joint!" He exclaimed, and gave him the pack to put on.

"Oh, so now you'll try drugs?" The Lion frowned in annoyance.

"Just put on the parachute so we can share it!" Zahariel exclaimed.

"Oh, right." The Lion put on the pack and opened the door. Zahariel clutched onto The Lion, as he jumped out of the pod and pulled the drawstring.

Luckily, there was an orphanage to catch the escape pod, as it burst into hellish flames.

The Lion and Zahariel drifted lightly in front of the burning building.

"Look, disguises!" Zahariel exclaimed as he ripped one of those golden masks off a charred corpse. He placed it upon his face and wrinkled his nose, "Smells burnt."

"Alright, let's make this quick. I have a turkey in the oven." El'Johnson replied, placing a mask upon his own his handsome face.

"Oh dear, I hope we're able to find him. But not beaten up and lying in a ditch." Zahariel added, shuffling away from the orphanage that was beginning to draw a crowd.

The Lion followed Zahariel and whispered to him, "I think I know where we can find Nemiel."

Zahariel nodded in understanding and followed The Lion into a dark alley. Crackheads laid shivering in the gutters, a hotdog cart with broken wheels was a few feet away from a brothel. Zahariel assumed behind the hotdog dealer's mask, he was a sad, depressed, obese man.

"How will THIS help us find Nemiel?" Zahariel asked, slowly losing confidence in the legendary The Lion.

"Well first off, I left my wallet here, and my beloved pet gerbil. After that, I don't know. I'll be right back." The Lion entered the brothel, but a dashing masked man came out. He was wearing a velvet purple hat with a large glittering white plume. He was adorned in a black and white zebra printed coat, and tasteful heeled shoes.

The masked man tilted his hat at Zahariel, and he swore he felt himself begin to blush. "H-hello, Sir."

But the man breezed past Zahariel, right to the hotdog stand.

"One Chicago style dog, please." The mysterious man said, and paid the cart owner.

The handsome pimp took the hotdog and slowly peeled the foil from and seemed to gaze over at Zahariel, whose eyes were glued on the figure.

The man sensually took the hotdog and abruptly shoved it into the face hole of his mask, down his throat, causing himself to choke briefly, and the condiments to drop on the floor.

Zahariel had heard that sound too many times not to recognize it. Only one person could make such music to his ears. Tears welt in his eyes, "Nemiel? Is that you?"

"By golly, Zahariel!" The pimp exclaimed, removing his golden mask and fedora. It WAS him. The Lion was right, for some reason, Nemiel was at a brothel.

Zahariel, too, ripped off his mask and sprinted towards his cousin, "H-how did you end up here? Why are you at a brothel? And how did you end up dressed like this?" Zahariel gestured at Nemiel's strange clothing.

Nemiel shrugged in response, "I get around." Then he shook his head in disbelief, "I can't believe you came back for me."

"Oh Nemiel, you're way too important to leave behind." Zahariel stroked his cousin's hair.

Nemiel pulled away from Zahariel's grip and wiggles his eyebrows, "did you like what you saw?"

"Very much," Zahariel made this face:  
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )

"There's more where that came from," and Nemiel took the hotdog and began deepthroating it again, but unfortunately, he was off his game, and the hotdog became lodged in his windpipe. He fell to the ground and his face began to turn purple.

"Just swallow it, Nemiel!" Zahariel screeched and punched Nemiel in the stomach.

Unfortunately, it left Nemiel more winded, and he collapsed to the ground, stone cold dead.

Zahariel fell to his knees and cried out, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The Lion, who had watched most of this go down, shouted back, "Noooooooooooooooooot my problem."

At Nemiel's funeral, barely anyone was there because he was a minor character. But as they lowered his casket into the hole, Zahariel dabbed his tears with a tissue, "At least he died doing what he loved, even if it wasn't on my hotdog."

Luther turned to The Lion and quirked an eyebrow.

"Don't ask." 


End file.
